To a young Russian girl raised to respect and fear the Bratva, gaining the attention of a powerful sovietnik from a feared organization was a terrifying thing. A dangerous temptation Sacha Urusski had no hope of resisting. Predictably, Alekzander decimated her heart and left her bleeding…but with a precious reason to go on. When he prowls back into her quiet life, Sacha’s decision to run is immediate. But before she can, Alekzander offers a confession that fully absolves him of his sins. Rather than celebrate, Sacha is forced to acknowledge an alarming truth. She has now become the villain in their story. Will she survive when Alekzander discovers why?

Sixteen months ago, Alekzander Tarasov was forced to give up his chance at happiness by annihilating his relationship with his soulmate. Now, after accepting who he is and what lengths he’ll go to protect what belongs to him, he wants Sacha back. Despite the darkness hovering over his family, he’ll stop at nothing to drag his curvy angel so deep into his world of violence and uncertainty she’ll never find her way out again.

With life-altering secrets and lies, disillusionment and broken faith enter a world where loyalty and trust reign. Will Alek and Sacha’s already damaged love be strong enough to survive? Or will it be a sense of duty that inexorably binds them together in the end?

#PLAYLIST

Excerpt

Wrecked. The pain that came through in Sacha’s voice as she
spoke of what he’d done to her absolutely wrecked Alek.

“I didn’t do it,” he said hoarsely, relieved
to admit the truth after all this time. “What you saw that night in my office
was fabricated.”

Her fragile jaw tightened and she looked
around, taking a minute before she said, “Last night, when I walked into that
restaurant, did you see Justin kiss me?”

Storm clouds swept in to blacken his mood. How
could she so carelessly toss that in his face? Sheppard’s kiss had been tender
and genuine. What Sacha had seen in Alek’s office couldn’t have been further
from something honest and real had he and Maks’s dancer been paper cut-outs.

“Yes, Sacha. I saw him put his hands on you,
and I watched his mouth come into contact with your skin. What about it?”

Her smile was quick and didn’t reach her eyes,
but her condescension reached his fucking ears. “He did not do it. What you saw
was fabricated.”

Well, holy fuck. He took a slow step back.
Couldn’t fucking stand that tone. Hated when someone used it with him. Her?
Yeah, it was worse. He roamed the small room, each step causing the parquet
flooring to shift and creak. He didn’t stop until he’d once more placed that
goddamn sofa between them.

Drawing in a slow breath that sounded like a
snake hissing as it passed through his teeth, he couldn’t help but think the
little guy’s jabbering coming from the corner didn’t fit with the tension now
hanging in the air. He concentrated on it and allowed it to bring him down.

He had to get a grip. He shouldn’t have to
work so hard to control this. He was supposed to be the cultured one in their
group. Gabriel was the leader, Vincente the muscle, Maksim the brains, and Alek
used to be the gentleman his father and uncle had raised him to be. The problem
was, he didn’t feel gentile. He felt raw and wounded, and so far into defense
mode it was disturbing. His time spent without her had done something to him,
changed him. Made him think in ways he would never have before. Made him feel
things he shouldn’t. Dark, ominous things more suited to Maks or Vincente’s
mind than his own.

“I will caution you to think before using that
tone with me again.”

She made an indifferent sound that grated on
his nerves like fine sandpaper on an open wound. He ignored it and studied this
courageous little soul for a moment. She had changed. Toughened up.

Because of what he’d done to her?

Never before would she have given him lip like
this. Too often she’d been an agreeable little princess whose favorite
expression had been Whatever you like, Alekzander. She was the
only person aside from his mother who’d ever used his full name. Even in the
midst of an orgasm she’d extended those four syllables in a way that soon had
him joining her.

“You probably enjoy having Sheppard to throw
in my face, hmm?”

He got a brief but clear view of how much
she didn’t enjoy it when her composure slipped to reveal
sympathy before she hid it again. A small line formed between her brows as she
rubbed at her nose with her palm in that way she’d always done just before
they’d argued. God, he missed that little rub.

“How did you meet him?” The question slipped
from him before he could catch it. He didn’t expect an answer, so he was
surprised when he got one.

“His friend lives upstairs. I care for Steve
and Angela’s son.” She pointed to the playpen, and then went over to gather a
small pile of toys that had been thrown over to their side of the barrier. The
smile she flashed at the little guy inappropriately hit Alek right behind the
zipper.

“Cozy little fucking family you’ve found,” he
muttered under his breath. “What is he to you, Sacha?”

“He is my charge.” She petted the boy’s dark
head. “I have known him since he was born.”

ABOUT NANCY HAVILAND

Nancy Haviland, author of the bestselling organized crime series, WANTED MEN, writes about her alpha mobsters and their ladies from her home near Toronto, Ontario. She fights for space on her keyboard with her arrogant kitty named Talbot, and adores her Tim Horton’s coffee; as any self-respecting Canadian would. She writes contemporary romantic suspense but will happily read anything that involves two people smooching.A member of Romance Writers of America, Nancy is represented by Nalini Akolekar of Spencerhill Associates, and is published by Montlake Romance/Amazon Publishing.